


Horseman

by C_Sharpe



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: G-Virus (Resident Evil), Gen, Mental Breakdown, Pre-Resident Evil 2, T-Virus, Umbrella Corporation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Sharpe/pseuds/C_Sharpe
Summary: If William can just hold on to his sanity for a few more days, his family will be free of umbrella and everything will be perfect.





	Horseman

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my head years ago, and written about a week ago, but I've been distracted by many things, not the least of which is the remake of RE2, which is amazing and go play it. This is based on a headcannon (am I using that right?) I've believed for years, explaining why Umbrella seemingly does everything in their power to not make a profitable product and fail on a catastrophic scale repeatedly. I posit that the virus itself, through unknown means, (infrasound?) affects the mental state of those around it, infected or no. It isn't conscious, just broadcasting it's instinct to spread to all and sundry. This leads to those working on it to make insane and stupid decisions which result in massive outbreaks. So really, Wesker and all the others are just puppets for this inhuman, unthinking plague which wants nothing more than to consume everything. Might do other characters in the same vein

William shot a testy look toward the flickering florescent light overhead (wondering distantly when he had last seen the sun) as he reviewed the details of the latest, and if all went according to plan, last report on G that he would submit to Umbrella. Less than a week now, after what increasingly felt like an eternity in service to these fools. He’d given them their monsters, for all the good it would do them. Their nonsense plans of using the millennium defining discovery of the Progenitor as some kind of key to world dominating weapons would no longer have any influence on his research. They’d been useful, no doubt about that. Their lack of any kind of accountability or scruples had shaved decades of pointless minutiae off of his work, but he’d gone as far as he could here. Even in a government facility his work could reach its ultimate potential in less than a decade now that he’d come this far.

 

The plan was nearing its end. This plan hatched by Al and Annie and himself nearly a decade prior. Spencer was a lunatic. That had been clear from the beginning. His easy dismissal of Ashford and Marcus had proved to them the man had no loyalty to anything or anyone outside himself, and that made everyone at Umbrella worryingly expendable. Al had done his part. He’d taken the experimental virus Alex had provided them, faked his death, and was even now working behind the scenes to facilitate the next steps. Will was ready to be rid of this place. The longer he worked for Umbrella, the more he could feel the madness of the place starting to rub off on him. If he was being honest with himself, it was far more likely the punishingly long hours and lack of normal human interaction as he pushed himself toward the final stages of his research. Still, there were days he’d read notes he himself had written only hours before, and find himself baffled and disturbed by their content.

 

These occasional bouts of mania were becoming more frequent, and that was all the more reason to be rid of this place. There were times, after long hours of work, where his obsession with his work would metamorphose into something more closely resembling religious devotion to his creation. He was proud of his work, there was no doubt of that, but G was only half finished. The name itself was a little joke to that effect. The “God” virus. William was a staunch atheist. Antitheist almost. He didn’t believe in “God”. God was a lie cooked up by the cunning few to placate and control the foolish masses. William believed in science, in evolution. This viral agent would be the key to the next phase of human evolution. Rapid cell recovery, adaptational mutations, telomere regeneration, all of these benefits and more. Illness and injury, things of the past! “Doctor William Birkin, savior of the human race” they would call him, at the parades and festivals held in his honor.

 

That was the plan. Sometimes, lately, the details seemed blurry, sometimes he forgot the why’s and wherefores altogether, but he clung to the plan. He and Al and Annie and Sherry would be free of these people, of Spencer’s insane demands (if “God was his little joke at Spencer’s expense he was sure “Tyrant” had been Marcus’.) More than anything, he needed to get out of here. Annie had started to present with her own bouts of mania, she would dote on him and praise his genius and pontificate on the beauty and perfection of his virus. They often overlapped with his own, and were now coming with unsettling frequency. He’d even found that the lab techs and workers were succumbing to this bizarre phenomenon. He would occasionally find one or another of them just staring at the mutants and subjects for minutes on end, with bizarre traces of reverence and even _lust_ in their expressions.

 

He needed out, and soon. Out of this sunless, sterile prison, out of here to breathe, to stretch, _to feed, consume, devour, replicate, spread spread spread _.__ William shook his head as he looked at the source of all this trouble. A sample of G, suspended it it’s culture fluid, ready to be reanalyzed. There were times, strange times where he found himself reaching for it. It truly was so beautiful. So perfect. There was a part of him that just wanted to… to… taste it. Just open the container and _let it out, let it IN, carry it, spread it, share it with the WORLD, just host after host to feed its majesty, to spread it’s glorious perfection…_

 

William pushed his chair out from the desk and stood. He needed to take a walk. He needed a break. He had no idea if the sun would be out, but he very much wanted to see for himself. “Please, Al, come through on this” He thought. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand this place.”


End file.
